Your Song
by Kyuketsuki1
Summary: Taito. Inspired by Elton John's "Your Song." Yamato searches for inspiration...


Your Song

By: Kyuketsuki

Disclaimer: I own neither Digimon nor "Your Song." Elton John owns one and Bandai the other. I won't bother to designate which is which.

*****

Yamato strummed a simple chord as his band mates talked eagerly about the groupies that had started appearing at all of their shows. He tuned them all out and focused on nothing but those mellow notes until it honed in his mind. He closed his eyes and let the vibration from his acoustic guitar ripple up through his fingertips as he struck it again. It traveled in slow time up through his nerves and into his brain where his musical mind began manipulating it until every imperfection was gone. It was one simple chord that began twisting and turning until it was a tune that was transported back down his fingers and into the guitar once again.

Akira, Takashi, and Yukata stopped in their chattering to look at Yamato, who still sat, eyes closed and concentration writ across his features.

"He's at it again," Takashi said lamely, his voice a whisper, as if afraid that he would interrupt the boy's concentration.

Akira shook his head a bit. "I don't know how he does it."

Yukata sat still, expectant. He was used to this expression by now, having been with Yamato the longest. He did not stay silent in fear. He knew that when the blonde got this way there was little that could snap him out of it.

Takashi shrugged. "As long as it's good I don't care if he receives it from Kami-sama or the mother ship."

Akira gave a snort of laughter, the spell broken. Yamato was once again a sixteen year old boy strumming a guitar, not the musical genius pounding out complicated symphonies that his mind tended to see when he got that look of peaceful harmony.

Opening one crystalline blue eye, Yamato grabbed a conveniently placed pad of paper and the pen tucked behind his ear. He scribbled for a moment, humming occasionally, the chord still echoing in his mind. He paused for a moment to string together a few notes and his band mates were surprised to hear a simple melody emerging.

They were usually not present for Yamato's writing sessions. The boy just always arrived at practice with a few sheets of paper tucked into his back pocket. It was these rare occasions that made them truly realize his ability. He could make a guitar sing under his slender fingers. His voice was liquid emotion. But to see him create... It was always a momentous occasion.

"What do you have," Yukata asked quietly, almost reverent of the music that still hung in the air. He didn't expect more than to be able to glance Yamato's curvy script, but to his surprise, the boy ducked his head and hit the original chord again. He played a tune that hinted at swells of piano later on and a strong percussion backup. It was light and graceful, but behind it they could sense the emotion that would come in time. It was the same soul he put into all of his works; something that Yukata's own songs lacked.

Akira nodded slowly. "Sounds good."

"'Course it sounds good," Takashi snapped playfully. "Yama wrote it, didn't he? What do you expect from him but the best?"

But the blonde was not with them to hear the grudging compliment. He was once again devoting himself to the music; loosing himself in the melody. It was a palpable thing again. The music was vibration against his skin and he could feel not only that of the guitar against his thigh but the phantom instruments that would come. They were always in the back of his mind, keeping time dutifully and occasionally taking the spotlight as he saw a weak point in the main guitar.

The creational process had a rhythm of its own, and when he paused to look back over the work he had subconsciously written, he immediately began working on his band mate's parts. Bass got a sturdy rhythm that was reminiscent of the original string than the electric bass that Akira was tuning with a trained ear.

Yamato waited until the dark-headed boy had turned his attention away from the instrument in his arms before handing him a sheet of paper. "Play that."

Blinking owlishly, Akira nodded. It was extremely simplistic and spaced, and the boy immediately knew that this work would be yet another one of Yamato's children. He would highlight his own strengths as most musicians did, and the others would fade into the background. When Yamato took up the song with him, he wondered vaguely what particular talent the boy would be focusing on.

As he reached the repeat, the sheet was snatched from his grip suddenly and folded. Yamato climbed to his feet and shoved all the paper into his back pocket, guitar precariously held in one slender hand.

"Where are you going?" Takashi asked, obviously confused. He was used to Yamato arriving at practice late and working sporadically, but the blonde usually wanted to stay late, not ditch only twenty minutes into it.

The tall boy zipped his guitar case closed and slung it over his shoulder. "Have to get a piano," he said as he walked to the door. His band mates bobbed in his wake like usual and watched him leave, humming all the way.


End file.
